


Finding Phil

by orphan_account



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Infantilism, Non-Sexual Age Play, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-10
Updated: 2017-01-10
Packaged: 2018-09-16 16:46:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9280463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: They'll find him. It's just gonna take a while.





	

_ “You can't stay in your corner of the Forest waiting for others to come to you. You have to go to them sometimes.” _

 

\-- Pooh's Little Instruction Book

  
  


What woke Clint was the frantic beeping of the oven; a sharp and sudden enough noise to make his dreams fade. Not that he should’ve been able to hear the beeping. His hearing aids were supposed to be taken out before he slept. But he had been too tired and too little to care. He still was. Too much noise. And he could feel the light of the room against his eyelids. Clint let out a whine and squeezed his eyes shut tighter, rolling on his side to face the back cushions of the couch he was napping on. There was the pressure of something pressing against his tongue, a solid reassurance of his entire body.

 

_ Thumb,  _ Clint thought. It was his thumb. He gave a few half-hearted sucks, his back arching slightly as he stretched. That’s when the scent hit him and it felt like something was tickling his nose, something pleasant. Realizing he wasn’t going to be getting back to his nap, Clint sat up and surveyed the area. He was on one of the couches of the communal floor and the smell was coming from the kitchen. Which made sense to him, what with the oven having beeped and all. His body felt a little too heavy and his head a little too muddled.  _ Cotton balls in my head. Or rabbits with fluffy little tails.  _ Clint giggled at his own thoughts before yawning. Slowly things were becoming sharper and he thought it was a shame, a real one, the bunnies had to leave so soon. But they had things to do, important bunny things like making carrot cake he supposed. And he had things to do too, probably. 

 

But for the life of him he couldn’t think of what.

 

So he stood, wobbled a little, righted himself and grimaced at the cold floor touching his feet and making them cold, too. Daddy usually had Clint wear socks. But earlier the floor was lava and socks would’ve certainly caught fire. The floor must’ve cooled since then, cooled to a smooth ice like usual. His socks had to be somewhere, and of course Daddy would know where. Daddy knew all kinds of crazy things. Like when Clint’s pull up was wet or why the sky was blue.  _ Because the sky saw those tinges of blue in my eyes, my eyes of many colors, and thought it was beautiful, a splendid idea, and then the sky was blue,  _ Clint thought. That was the most logical answer. But then he thought of Daddy’s eyes and figured maybe the sky thought of his eyes, too.

 

He looked around again, expecting to see Daddy sitting on one of the pieces of furniture nearby. But he was not. So he closed his eyes, and he opened them, and he looked around again, but he was not. Clint decided that Daddy was in the kitchen. Somebody had to be since that smell of rich chocolate was still wafting into the main room. Somebody had to have made that smell, or rather the thing making that smell. He headed to the kitchen, his bare feet padding quietly on the cold floor and reminding him why he needed Daddy. Because he needed socks. And Daddy would be the very best at finding them. 

 

Clint wasn’t very good at finding things, though he did try. And he figured if he tried hard enough, he could find his daddy. So when he entered the kitchen it was with a determined smile around his thumb. “Daddy!” He exclaimed. But he was wrong. Instead, turning to face him was Bruce. And Bruce looked surprised, but not upset he didn’t think. So Clint huffed and said next; ”Not Daddy.” And to that Bruce smiled and shook his head, chuckling at Clint’s failure. That was mean of him. He said then, “Nope, not your daddy. Sorry Clint. But I did make brownies.” Bruce nodded to a plate on the counter and maybe he wasn’t being mean. Clint walked closer to inspect the brownies, deciding that must be the chocolate smell. It all made perfect sense. 

 

What didn’t make sense was where his daddy was. The only thing Clint could be certain of was where Daddy wasn’t. So far that meant the main room and kitchen of the communal floor. Then he felt somebody touching him, running fingers through his hair which was still messy from his nap. Bruce’s fingers. He leaned into the touch with a happy little hum.

 

But he did still need to find Daddy. He looked instead to Bruce’s face. “Daddy?” He asked, knowing the man would understand. And Bruce did, but Bruce also frowned, which made him frown. Bruce spoke then, and he listened. “Afraid I don’t know where he is. I’d suggest asking Jarvis, but he’s temporarily down for some reprogramming. Sorry, Clint.” He apologized again. Clint didn’t like that. He didn’t like any of that. So he huffed and whined to convey just how he felt about it. His free hand had hooked on to the hem of Bruce’s shirt.

 

“Daddy.”

 

“How about brownie instead?”

 

“Instead?”

 

“Just for now.”

 

That sounded fine. Daddy was the best, but brownies were a close second. Clint yawned and took his thumb from his mouth, using that hand instead to rub at his face. He grimaced when the spit from his thumb smeared across the bridge of his nose. Bruce of course noticed and grabbed a dish towel from the countertop, using it to wipe the spit away. It was nice to have people do things for him sometimes even though Clint was still definitely a big boy. Next he found himself being lead to the dining room and sat down at the table. Bruce went back to the kitchen and quickly returned with the brownies, setting the plate on the table between where Clint sat and where he sat. Clint didn’t spare any time in snatching a brownie, one of the soft middle ones, and taking a big bite. Daddy would’ve gotten upset with him for not saying thank you and eating too fast, but Daddy wasn’t there. 

 

And that was the issue wasn’t it? It was. Certainly. “I gotta find Daddy.” He spoke as he chewed, because Daddy wasn’t there to see that either. But apparently Bruce didn’t like it, too. “Don’t talk with your mouth full, Clint, it’s very impolite. How about we go look for him when you’re done?” The man offered. Who was Clint to refuse? So he nodded enthusiastically. He would’ve said thank you, but his mouth was full. And by the time he was finished with his brownie his mind had moved on. Bruce was doing something on a tablet, probably something science-y and boring. Bruce and Tony were  _ always  _ doing boring science stuff. Some of that stuff ended up with Clint having awesome new arrows though, so it was okay. He was still a little tired and always more needy that way, so he scooted his chair closer to Bruce’s and put his chin on the distracted man’s shoulder to look at the complicated mess of numbers and big fancy words on the tablet screen.

 

Deciding that whatever Bruce was doing could wait, Clint whined loudly. That earned a chuckle. “Fine, fine, let’s go.” Bruce said before turning the tablet off and setting it on the table. He stood and Clint stood, too, eager to start their hunt. “Where first?” He asked, then hooked two fingers in his mouth to chew and suck on. Bruce shook his head and reached up, pulling his fingers away and wiping them with a dish towel like he’d done earlier with Clint’s face. “Gym. It’s right below this floor.” Of course Clint knew where the gym was, but it was nice of Bruce to clarify. Sometimes little Clint wasn’t the best with directions (and sometimes big Clint wasn’t that great either).

 

“Where’s your shark?” 

 

Clint pointed back towards the living room. 

 

“Well let’s go get that first. Don’t want you getting your fingers all gross, do we?”

 

“Nuh uh.”

 

Bruce took his hand and they went back to the living room. Sure enough, said shark was sitting on the glass coffee table. Clint pointed to it and Bruce picked it up, putting the necklace of sorts on him. The shark was a little purple toy about two inches long and made of a material safe and durable enough for Clint to chew on, attached to a thin length of paracord to be worn like a necklace. It kept his fingers and who knows what else out of his mouth and his daddy had gotten it for him last Christmas so it was very important. Clint slid the little shark into his mouth and gave it a few chews before contentedly sucking at it. The slight give of the toy felt nice when his teeth pressed into it. The very back of his mouth, where the gums slope down and away from the teeth, were subject to the pressure of the shark's tail. It filled in the gap the slopes made perfectly. Clint, with two free hands, grabbed onto Bruce's shirt and held on as they continued.

 

The two boarded the elevator. It was only a short flight of stairs down, but the little hawk wasn't the best at navigating them when little. Not to say he liked the elevator. It made his stomach feel weird. Like an octopus got in there. Clint wagered a squid was more likely. Less tentacles meant it would fit better. Regardless, the slight nausea was worth the risk when compared to a nasty potential fall down the stairs. Besides, Clint was far too busy with Bruce's shirt to notice his tummy that time. He only perked up when the elevator buzzed and the doors slid open to reveal the gym. It wasn't a place Clint liked to be at when he was feeling small. In spite of Tony's remarkable janitorial staff, the place still smelled of sweat. He grimaced and reminded himself that they were there for the greater good before stepping into the large room.

 

Bruce was right alongside him, squinting when the sunshine from the huge panoramic windows lining the furthest wall leaked bright sunlight into the room and subsequently straight into his eyes. The westward view of the expansive city below was typically phenomenal, but at that point of the day the sun was aloft in the sky in such a way that it inhibited the view. Clint stepped towards the clean glass anyway, the warmth from the sun's rays hitting him and making a juxtaposing shiver run down his spine. There was nobody there besides the two of them. That fact did little to ebb Clint's determination. 

 

A few steps back.

 

His back hit against something soft.

 

The boy relaxed and leaned into it. Him. Bruce. 

 

“Let's go. We'll check Tony's lab.”

 

That sounded okay to him. They left the gym quietly. 

  
How hard could it possibly be to find a little boy’s daddy?


End file.
